


Veneno

by vegetalass



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: F/M, M/M, Manipulation, barely, drinking and suicide mentioned, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetalass/pseuds/vegetalass
Summary: In some ways, it makes you want to laugh; to think that Herald knows nothing of your endeavors to kill him, and that all his good fortune can’t do a thing to stop you.But in others, you feel like crying because he’s a boy who loves you and you have nothing left to offer in return.





	Veneno

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr!

You knew it. You knew Herald used to be rich. **  
**

Maybe it was his perfect hair and blue eyes that gave it away, or the fact that he mentioned having a television as a kid. Maybe it was because he was so sweet and shy when you first met, that when you found the collection of pills beneath his bathroom counter when you went snooping through his stuff, that you realized you’d never even considered the fact that he’s probably never had to starve.

In retrospect, maybe it should’ve been a little more obvious after the first night you spent with him, and you should’ve taken better precautions to handle his delicate, loving nature, but so far you haven’t complained and you’re not about to start. Not only has everything worked out, but currently, you’re laying in the soft, old sheets of Herald’s bed, in his nice and clean apartment you can only describe as luxury.

Better than what you have. Better than what you had.

It makes you feel like a kid, the type with no concept for anything except longing. The kind of kid that reads books about bakers who sneak bread to dying girls, and blond princes who insist on liking someone their father hates.

And boy, does Herald like you.

He’s such a prim boy, if not just a sweet one. Kind, generous, loving, you name it. Anybody would be lucky to have him, and for now, that means you. The money is just a bonus, one that you could easily get used to.

Whether this has always the case, though, is another question. One that doesn’t matter much, because you find it’s just been nice to have been surprised as a telepath. Not to mention, you could always use the resources.

In some ways, it makes you want to laugh; to think that Herald knows nothing of your endeavors to kill him, and that all his good fortune can’t do a thing to stop you.

But in others, you feel like crying because he’s a boy who loves you and you have nothing left to offer in return.

You’ve decided not to mull on it. Because when he invites you to spend the night, and kisses you endlessly in that red-hot way, staying in his bed after is so comfortable and warm that it almost feels like the reason you don’t intend to get caught as a villain for a while.

So, you’ve been starting to come over to his place a lot recently.

It wasn’t intentional, your relationship with him. You always tried to tell him that it was Sidestep he was dreaming of, not this new you. But from the moment you let him kiss you on that day in HQ, and then later on that other night after your first date… it became harder and harder to stop yourself from growing quite… fond of him.

Even if it wasn’t planned.

Despite the mess that you’ve gotten tangled up in, in every possible way, it has been a really fun way to pass the time. Watching the way Herald dances around you as if you’re a breakable doll who’s done no wrong, even if he loves and trusts and admires you.

And the fact that you sometimes have emotional outbursts where you cry about disappointing him only adds to the effect of it all. It’s a risky but satisfying game, and even if part of it is genuine, you’re still a villain and have to remember the limits, though you don’t want to be evil all of the time. You might run out of luck.

Herald doesn’t know that, though. There’s actually a lot that he doesn’t.

Part of the fun is trying to guess how long you think all of this good might last. Because good things never last, do they?

But that’s no matter right now, and you shake your head from the thought, because the only person who has even dared to figure out your true nature is Herald’s cat, who hasn’t taken kindly to your presence since the start.

What a smart animal.

She’s a fat, old thing. A tabby, with piercing, green eyes. She was hiding on the first night you came over, probably busy licking herself and thinking that you were another romantic partner here to screw her Daniel over. She was right, but you just kept coming back.

Currently, she’s washing herself from her place on Herald’s dirty hoodie on the dresser across from you, looking up occasionally to hiss in what feels like a mocking, angry tone.

_Re-Gene! Villain! I know what you’ve done, and you leave my Daniel out of it!_

Tough shit, cat, though it’s still a shame she won’t let you pet her.

Not like you’re planning on moving out of bed, anyway.

It’s only in between your stints of dozing to the sound the sickly sounding auburn news anchor on the TV and mulling about whether sweets or a drink would taste better first, that you notice the approaching presence of Herald’s feather white aura growing closer, and realize that he must be in the building.

Even the now-napping cat seems to stir in acknowledgement before the both of you notice the sound of keys struggling in a locked door, as if you couldn’t try to pinpoint Herald’s exact location by entering his mind from your comfortable position with a little effort if you really wanted to try.

Immediately, the cat jumps from her comfortable perch to the floor, and rushes to the front door in an attempt to reach Herald halfway, get a scratch, and then rat you out as if he’d even listen if she could talk.

Either way, he’s home.

You can hear meows, and it’s easy to imagine how she tangles around his ankles as he squats to give her ears a good scritch. The pleasant imagery is interrupted too soon, though, as suddenly she yowls and you can hear the pit-pat of her feet as she rushes your way in her attempt to tattle on you.

“Oh, you,” you can hear him mutter at her as his footsteps echo in your direction before he hobbles into the room with a nasty limp. He looks about as close to someone who just got hit by a car and lived as someone possibly could, as his mess of gold hair is wind-blown and tangled, face bruised and dirty, and from the way his head is tilted down, must’ve been slouching for a while.

He looks… defeated, and you smile at the sight, hoping that you somehow look kind.

The cat continues to meow until Herald looks up, eyes widening in surprise when they finally meet your gaze, and despite his bad posture, or lack thereof from his aches, brightens immediately at your smile.

“Hi,” he breathes, finally standing up to throw his keys onto the little table resting by the door to his room.

“I wasn’t sure if I could let myself in-” You nod in his direction, before he interrupts you.

“Of course,” he blurts, almost too quickly, and then quickly looks away from your face when he finishes. “Always.”

You smile, feigning relief, even if you don’t really care.

Herald continues on, shuffling from where he’s standing to a dresser not far away, and you sit up in his bed to watch as he strips from his Ranger suit to reveal another handful of purple-blue wounds and scratches layered above his already scarred chest. He must be hurting.  

“Daniel…” you call to him in an attempt to seem worried, and he hums in acknowledgement, “Are you okay?”

He grunts, and in the silence that follows, the TV seems to grow louder in his place. You hadn’t realized that it switched from the weather special to a Los Diablos  _Breaking News!_  segment.

 _“Ranger spotted in successful attempt stopping local mob,”_ the smiling woman says, eyes blurred toward the camera as a clip of Herald handcuffing a man in a black jumpsuit takes over the screen.

You smile again because he’s a really good guy. A great one. And his fighting has been getting better.

Part of you wonders if it’s due to the fact that you’ve been training him, and the other part wonders if you should be worried. He’s always been someone who appears a lot weaker than he actually is. And you want to stoke the flame.

“You don’t have pull the tough guy act with me, Daniel,” you say to him, this time more forcefully.

You know he always notices when you use his real name, which is one of the reasons why you started using it. This time, you watch as he lowers the green shirt he’s been holding to his chest to look at you with those endless blue eyes and sigh wistfully.

“I get it, you know I do,” you try again, this time with the intent of at least getting him to open up.

You’re nervous, at first, scared of what he could say to you. That he knows you’re playing games, or that he doesn’t want you around anymore. But nothing has ever warranted this response in the past, so you wonder what’s happened to him to make him look at you like you just hit him over the head.

Ha.

You  _have_  hurt him. You even ruined one of his legs, but that was in the past, and it’s not like he knows that was you. If he did, you’d hope that he’d just be grateful enough to appreciate the fact that you didn’t kill him that night, too. He shouldn’t have any reason to look worried when you’ve just been here, lying in bed, silently waiting for him to join you, so you suppose you shouldn’t be worried either.

The TV speaks again.

_“Impressive feat for the youngest member of the Rangers, who just under a year ago was taken down by the notorious Puppetmaster at their debut sighting.”_

Herald is still paused, except this time, you notice his gaze has moved from you to the screen in front of him.

Though the news channel was initially spouting a success story, it’s no surprise that they’re now comparing Herald’s skills to when the both of you fought. It’s also not a surprise when the golden boy of the Rangers suddenly looks even smaller than before when he whips back around as to stop glaring at the news anchor as if she could even see him. You wonder what she would do if she could.  

You don’t speak.

“You know…” Herald starts, ignoring your previous words all together, “I’m worried about you.”

This doesn’t shock you, though not because you’re a telepath. He’s a naive boy, so of course he is worried, and because part of you cares about him in some twisted way, the good in you wishes that he wasn’t.

Worried or naive?

Both?

Deep down, you know he shouldn’t like you and you crave to tell him as such. To berate him, to beat it into him, to scream that he’s just a stupid, little boy in love with an animal who has a past he’d never understand. But it’s easy to stop yourself because you always do.

You hesitate to respond, but mutter back anyway. “Why?”  

You know he means it well, he means everything well, but the words come out harsher than you intended them to, and you quickly have to pat the spot next to you in bed to ensure that Herald thinks you’re not angry at him for simply… being him.

The little, sweet and young Sidestep that is still left in your heart is screaming to be kinder; telling you that you should just be happy that there is someone still cares for you and is able to show it. But there’s an ache in your heart, and suddenly the thought of both your past and your future make you feel like you have to get piss-shit drunk, puke all over yourself, and then immediately get heartburn.

So you decide to ignore the thought all together, and focus on the fact that Herald is now staring intently at you again. Only half-dressed (which is distracting), still, but staring nonetheless.

He tilts his face towards the ground to slouch once more, before whispering, “I just don’t want… them to come after you, too.”

“Oh, hush,” you say instantly, patting the bed again, before reaching out your arms for him to join you as he makes his way over. You know who he means, and the person already has.

You.

You are coming for yourself.

“Puppetmaster is growing very strong, when they learn you’re still around… they might-” He cannot finish the thought before he reaches the bed and ducks himself into your waiting arms.

You roll your eyes as you rest your cheek on his soft head. He really is a silly boy.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, into his hair, “I still have you, don’t I?”

He stays silent, so you continue the charade.

“You’re the one on the frontlines, so if anything, I’m the one who should be worried,” are your final words, before Herald cups your cheeks in his large palms in an attempt to kiss you. Before he makes it, however, you have to swat his face away because you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles deep from inside your chest at the realization of the situation.

Herald looks stunned, but smiles meekly in return when he decides you aren’t angry, and then laughs with you, even if he doesn’t get the joke.

“You’re silly, Daniel,” you say, settling with simplicity, because what do you say to the love who you’re lying to? What can you say, even if you kind of love them back?

But Herald, or maybe Daniel now (as you don’t much care which anymore), just blinks slow and smiles, content being held tightly in your arms.

You want to consider it strange, all this dedication to a person he doesn’t really know, this old Sidestep person, whoever they are, except that in a way, you realize, he does know you.

He knows the you that you have given him, this laughing kid, and in a sense, you truly believe that that’s not really you at all; because you just play this game too well, and he’s been wrapped around your finger from the start. You allowed for this, and you don’t want to say you regret it.

He’s a sweet boy. Always has been. And he never fails to surprise you.

“I love you,” he declares suddenly, voice quiet, sweet, and calming.

And you’re shocked. Not because you didn’t know that, but because you weren’t expecting to really care. And underneath his covers, everything seems three times as sweet. You weren’t expecting to be flattered, and there’s a part of you doesn’t even mind. Another thing you could easily get used to. So responding is easy.

“Thank you, Daniel. I mean it.”

And he nods, still cuddled against your heart, your tattoos, looking at you like someone who could truly be loved. He is smiling all the while, too.

“Even if you can’t say it back, I’ll wait,” he says, lips barely curled, blue eyes sparkling.

It’s a nice gesture: this sudden, heartfelt proclamation, but you can’t say it’s one you deserve, as you have been so cruel to both him and yourself. Even though the Sidestep in you would rather jump off a roof, crash, and die before breaking his heart, you have long since realized that there is still a villain inside you that is hungry to laugh and cheer when Herald finds out who really tore him apart on that night at the museum.

You’d feel worse, but that day really was amazing. Finally making yourself proud, even at his expense.

However, the thought quickly escapes you, as this time, when he leans over to kiss you, you let him. His lips are warm on yours, and as you find your fingers tangled in his hair, for a second, it almost feels as though this relationship wasn’t built on a lie.  

“I know,” you respond, smiling sweetly at him for once, genuinely, because even if could change your behavior, you cannot help your pride, and you cannot help your heart.

And when you’re going to break his anyway, even though you know you should stop this mess, because a small part of you loves him, you might as well make sure it hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
